


BEBOP

by xetou



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Yakuza, F/M, Female Character of Color, Reader Insert, reader is a singer, set in the 1940s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:08:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29844039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xetou/pseuds/xetou
Summary: Thankfully for Kita, bad luck can lead to good things.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Reader
Kudos: 7





	BEBOP

** twenty minutes before the casino performance **

“Don’t cry baby, you gone ruin the makeup I spent all day perfectin’.” Mama Louie reassures, her jewelry adorned hands rubbing the junction of your shoulders, temporarily easing your nerves. But to your dismay, they scurry back as soon as they leave. “But Mama,” you drawl, lips wobbling as you study your face in the vanity mirror. “What if I mess up!” you exclaim, pulling a wide wavy curl to watch it pop back in place.

“That ain’t an option,” her usual playful tone turns steely. Your movements freeze as you process her words. “They ain’t gone let you fly by if you do.” She pins you with her stare through the mirror. “Your whole career’s on the line, remember that.” She points, turning to leave. Her wide hips squeezing through the door as she shuts it with a thud.

“She’s right,” you whisper. Your management was the one and done types. One mistake and you’d be blacklisted, never to be seen again. You’d seen it happen yourself, the lead singer of one of the most gazed upon girl trios had the misfortune of being caught in a relationship with a boy from her hometown. The scandal had spread like wildfire. Too big to cover up, she was erased from all media. No more newspaper articles, no more television appearances, and no more performances. 

Then you came along, a pretty girl whose small waist fit any dress snug and wide almond eyes. Ones that were liquidy brown and held no prior knowledge of the world past her own, and last but not least a voice smooth and adorning like silk.

Once, Mama Louie had told you that she had heard the revival of jazz in your voice, your breath had hitched at that. Voice teetering with disbelief as you squealed — _really, Mama Louie? You really mean it_! She gave you a boisterous laugh and a pat on the bum — _I mean it, girl. Now go show ‘em_. It had been your first ever stage performance, a good six dozen people scattered around a townhouse in the vast corner of New Orleans. You did well, really well. Good enough that you got a week off to shop at your favorite boutiques.

It went on and on, performances in cities you’d never even thought of. And every time you impressed, fame accumulated and so did fans. Yeah, you were a trio but you were the lead. No, your ego wasn’t big, but you needed a little impenetrable cloud overhead to survive in this industry, it _was_ the 40s after all.

** fifteen minutes before the casino performance  **

“A casino’s kinda cliche don’t ya think?” Suna grumbles from the front seat of his boss’s Plymouth. “Whatever boss wants, is whatever boss gets.” Osamu and Atsumu turn to glare at each other. “Don’t copy me!” they say in unison.

From the passenger, Aran rolls his eyes. “I can feel the stupidity escaping into my lungs.” Suna chuckles at that, whizzing past a red light without a second thought.

Taking a peek at his Lecoulture, his eyes widen. “What is it?” Aran turns to glance at Suna’s worried expression. “We’re late,” he breathes out. His tight grip on the wheel causing his already pale knuckles to go white. The twins in the backseat turn away from their bickering to gape. “What do you mean we’re late!” Suna doesn’t reply, focus too intent on weaving his way through the slow transverse traffic. They all gulp, bullets of sweat adorning their foreheads.

_Boss was going to kill them._

** five minutes before the casino performance  **

“Doesn’t look like there’s any money coming, does it?” Kita’s eye twitches in anger as he surveys his cards, trying with all his might to keep a neutral expression. 

Bad luck. One instance was enough —the rest of his crew failing to arrive on time with the sacred suitcase of trade— but two? He didn’t even have a pair of matching cards in a hand! Certainly, he was a hair’s breadth away from exploding. 

“Hey rookie, be respectful.” A blonde-haired figure declares, upping his glasses higher on his pointed nose. “Shima! Shima! But you’re a rookie too?” An energetic kid scrambles to taunt his crewmate, the upper lights of the casino catching the orange hues of his unkempt hair.

_What a chaotic bunch_ , Kita thinks. While contemplating his current situation, he contemplated another. Was it even a good idea to trade products with them? In his years of expertise, he’d encountered many things. Uprising separate syndicates were dangerous, always seeking fresh things to latch their jaws on.

That was exactly what Karasuno was, a new and revived syndicate. Word had already spread of their deeds. Though, Shiratoriwaza had already fallen prey to their underhanded tactics, sucked dry of most of their money, products, divisions, and land. It wasn’t like Kita felt any sympathy, they were cocky. _Too cocky_. And arrogance always led to downfall. But it was alarming to see nonetheless. 

“There’s a performance today.” A long-haired Karasuno member addresses. “Biggest event of the night, heard that the lead was a real gem.”

Kita raises his eyebrows at that. A performance in a casino? He’d never heard of that before. 

“Wait! You’re talking about that one trio we heard on the radio?” the orange-haired boy says, flailing his arms around. “I’ve never seen a singing act in real life before!”

Kita had seen hundreds, dealings had higher success rates in crowded places. He never took it upon himself to listen or look too intently, but now, as he had nothing to do but sit and wait, he’d revel in it. 

**thirty seconds before the casino performance**

“It’s time.” Tina and Betty sing-song as they enter your designated room. Your eyes shift to see their attire. “Oh meee goodness,” you shimmy. “My girls look so good.” You grab both of their hands and twirl them into a spin, their blue gowns glinting with the room lights. 

“Yeah, but look at you,” Tina surveys. Both of them standing by your side as they gaze in the mirror. Your hairstyles were slightly different. Whilst Tina and Betty’s wavy hair stopped at the neck, yours stopped at your shoulder. Though, the most noticeable difference was your pure white gown. Starting with a plunging neckline and ending below your feet. 

“If I was a regular town girl I’d have so many boys flocking to me.” You press your hand to your forehead in dramatics, leading your girls to the door. They both giggle as they follow behind. 

“You nervous?” Betty whispers in your ear. She probably could feel your sweaty palms. “Betty now you know—” 

“Ladies! Your on.” A man clad in a velvet red and white suit walks up to you three. “Walk up to the balcony, and stop where you see the microphones…good luck.”

With conjoined heads, you all nod. With a gulp, you step forward first. Head held up high as you stepped up the wide staircase. The silence in the casino was slightly eerie, the lack of the main lights didn’t help either. You hear the clack of Tina and Betty’s heels as they fall in step.

Stepping up to the middle microphone, you give your best dazzling smile. _Stretch ya cheeks, girl. Don’t raise those eyebrows too high now. That’s it, that’s it. Gahlee, my baby’s such a natural star._

As you sweep your arms wide, you wonder if Mama Louie had one of those rare approving glints in her eyes. You could only hope so.

“Ladies and gentleman, thank you for coming out tonight! My girls and I are gonna give y’all a little performance, is that okay with you all?” A jive of _yes_ ’s and whistles ring throughout the casino. “As soon as we’re done, you can go right back to gambling your money. Just for a lil while.” You inch in closer. “Might even join ya.” You wink with a giggle.

“Tina.” You turn. “Betty.”

“You ready?” 

**the casino performance commences**

The dim lights calls all seated to attention. Kita drops his hands of cards on the poker table, hoping no one would steal a glance in the dark. He shuffles his chair to turn to the upper balcony. The casino goes quiet as a rim of light shines on one area. The ricochet of heels flits throughout the casino, three-woman emerging from the long staircase. Kita raises an eyebrow once his eye catches sight of —what he assumed to be— the lead singer. He notices the way her white dress sticks to her figure like second skin, darker skin contrasting with the pure fabric. He hears a few _woahs_ emerging from the poker table. Since they were situated on a private balcony, he couldn’t hear everything below but he assumed there were sounds of approval too. Once she steps out to the microphone, her speech is drowned out by a ringing in Kita’s ears. His senses going haywire as he feels something cool and hard on his temple. 

“Glad we had the performance today,” a voice whispers close to his ear. Of course. Kita blinks, of course, they would do this. He had failed to give what they had previously negotiated. In all honesty, they’d probably end his life then and there with a silencer and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. His gun was tucked in a pocket underneath the confines of his suit’s jacket but it was one against at least five people. He’d be riddled with bullets before his index touched the trigger.

“We thought of waiting for a couple of extra minutes,” the gun holder sighs. “But Mr. Hinata, here, is a very impatient guy.” 

“You’re not gonna beg?” A voice, who he guesses is Hinata, asks. 

“I’d rather not,” Kita grumbles, loosening his tie as his ears finally catch the melody of your singing. For some unknown reason, his muscles relax, no longer fear-ridden. 

“You think your crew’s coming?”

“No, the music’s just relaxing.” He says with nonchalance, which probably adds fuel to the fire. As a result? A breach of pain —which he assumes to be the butt of a gun— flares through his temple. As black dots line his vision and his eyes flutter shut, the last thing he hears is a roar of applause. 

**thirty seconds after the casino performance**

“Thank you!” You and your girls’ bow, chests heaving with sweat adorned foreheads. As you walk down the staircase the casino gets brighter and you turn to your designated room. 

When you enter a beat of silence passes through the air. “AHHH!” Betty screams first. You and Tina follow.

“That was…how do I explain this?“ Betty turns to you. 

“Exhilarating!” you finish. “I felt like a real star.” You say, walking to the mirror to fan your face. 

“I wonder what Mama Louie thinks.” Tina exhales, her full lips downturns as stagnant air takes its place. Though Mama Louie’s critiques were somewhat harsh, they were the most notable to you and your girls. Higher than your management, higher than the media’s response, higher than anything.

“I’m sure she did.” You wink, trying your best to drive up the mood. “We did everything right.” You sashay and roll your hips. “And did you forget?” You turn.

“We got the best high notes in all of ‘merica.” You and your girls say in unison.

“Girls!” A loud voice booms and you all turn towards the door. _Mama Louie_. With held breath, you all wait as she stared. Mama Louie was pretty. _Real_ pretty. Wide afro hair, wide nose, wide plush lips, and hips, too. She always had boys flanking but she never paid them any mind, too focused on perfecting the appearance of you three. 

“You.” She points. “Out.” _Huh_. “I ain’t repeating myself.” 

You scramble up, eyebrows drawn in confusion. You could’ve sworn that you all did well, every practiced move, every note, _everything_. But Mama Louie’s aura emitted cool waves of disappointment. When you reach the door, you turn to Betty and Tina one last time, all mirrored with one expression, fear. 

Noticing your pause, Mama Louie turns to you. With a yelp, you leave and close the door with a thud. You stand with your ear to the door but the only thing you hear are hushed whispers. With a huff, you turn down the hallway. 

When you make it to the main part of the casino the lights are still bright but it’s silent. You rock on the balls of your feet, looking up to the balcony you just performed on a while ago. As you look on, you spot a slumped figure. 

_The casino hours were over_?

With cautious steps, you make way to what seemed to be a private area. The poker table velvet red with big gold chairs. You do a glance over at the figure. The figure’s a man. His gray hair nice and low cut. The part of his face you do see —which is not mushed against the table— seems to be nice-looking. 

“Mister,” you whisper. “You ought to go home now, the casino’s closed.” He doesn’t reply. You try one more time, this time with a tap on his shoulder. He stirs slightly and raises his head. Though, as soon as he does your face to face with the barrel of a gun. You freeze, putting your hands up with a stutter. “W-w-ait I’m not—” You pause, studying his face. He _is_ handsome, adorning clothes fit for a priest. “W-why does a priest have a gun.” You think out loud. 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” He places his gun under his suit jacket. With the weapon away, you still stay frozen in place. He turns to you fully, giving you a glance over. “I’m not a priest,” he declares, his accent heavy with something you’ve never heard before. When you put the pieces together, you gasp. The bruise on his temple, the fancy suit, the gun. “You’re one of those mafia guys on tv!” You point, delighted that you came to such an inference. Though it’s cut short when he bursts into laughter.

“What— am I wrong?” You cross your arms and huff. 

“Can’t tell you.” He fancies, studying you once more. His gaze leaving you slightly flustered. “You’re that singer, right? The one that just performed.” 

You hum, taking a seat at the poker table.

“Can you sing for me?” _Huh._

“You’re a singer, right? It’s a normal thing to do. Or are you scared?” You turn away. 

“But—” 

_But you’re a random attractive fellow_ , you want to say but to prove him wrong you huff out a “fine.” 

He gives you a grin, one that causes your stomach to spin like bubblegum. You start with a slow song, the first-ever song you sang in front of a crowd. The melodies changing ever so slightly as the song goes on… You drum your fingers on your thigh to remember the chords of the instruments. 

Kita stares on with wonder, his heart speeding up at an unhealthy pace as he questions himself. _A pretty voice and a pretty face_? You _mus_ t be some type of goddess and for you to grace his presence after such a terrible night? He could easily die happy, leaving his yakuza tasks to the rest of his godforsaken men.

When you finish, you look up to gauge his reaction. Your lips part in surprise once you see his face a mere inches apart from yours. His eyes an alluring type of golden. “Name?” His minty breath washes over you. 

You blink, once, twice. “M-my name?” He shakes his head. “The name of the song.” Once he sees your face fall he speaks up, “I’ll find out your name another time, you _are_ famous, no?” 

“I guess so,” you breathe out. “I haven’t officially named it but I think I might call it be —’” Your words are interrupted by a shout of your name. You whip your head around and stand up from the table. “I’m comin!” Just give me a seco—” Your voice falters as you turn to see the man you’d just talked to, gone. 

“Come on! I ain’t got all day!” Mama Louie shouts. Your eyes flit to the poker table one last time, catching sight of a white card. You scan over it. Smiling wide when you see a phone number.

_Realtor_ … You scoff, he was so not a realtor. However, your eyes trail off to the side to see a name in big bold letters…

_**Kita Shinsuke**._


End file.
